Page 42
Story: South of Nowhere
Tolifson nodded.
To Buddy, Colter said, “I’ll rev and hit the supply.”
“Yessir.” The fireman gripped the hose and walked closer to the pond. He aimed toward the area indicated.
Colter returned to the fire engine and climbed into the cab. He pulled the hand control for the engine throttle and pushed the revs up. The engine growled impatiently. Climbing out, Colter shouted, “Ready?”
“Go!” was Buddy’s response.
Colter yanked the chrome supply lever on the side of the boxy red vehicle and almost instantly the hose went rigid. Given where they were and what was happening, he couldn’t help but think: The power of water.
“Everybody!” he called. “Look for metal or glass!”
The stream blasted through the several inches of water on the surface.
Colter stared at the swath it cut.
Buddy was making good progress, firing the stream into the soup everywhere that Colter had expected the SUV to be.
And where it was not.
Everyone stared at the stream, looking for any hint of the vehicle.
Nothing.
The mayor walked up to Colter and as both men looked at the pond, Tolifson said, “I get the rearview mirror thing, but what gave you the idea they might be here in the first place?”
Colter pointed to a sign, entangled in the metal posts, concrete footers and cable from a guard fence that had once protected traffic from falling into the river.
NoFISHINGfrom Levee
It took the man a moment. Then he exhaled a sour laugh and shook his head. “Goddamn. The sign was on theriverside of the road. If it ended up here, the SUV might’ve come this way too. I saw that very sign hours ago. And didn’t think a thing of it.”
“Losing pressure,” Buddy called.
Colter glanced at the gauge. Twenty seconds of water remained.
And just then Debi Starr cried, “There!”
It was definitely the roof of a vehicle.
As the nozzle sputtered to silence and the line went limp, Buddy called, “What do we do now?”
Colter gestured back to the fire truck. “I need a ladder.”
18.
The Hinowah Fire Department vehicle did not feature a power ladder but rather two extendable manual ones. Buddy and Tolifson grabbed one and pulled it to its full length—about thirty feet. They placed it where Colter indicated: from the levee side of the mudslide to the shore of the retention pond, making a bridge about a foot above the flowing surface.
He called, “Need a chain saw!”
“I’ll get it.” Buddy ran to the truck. To Dorion and Tolifson, Colter shouted, “Sandbags.”
He hefted one himself and walked over the bouncing ladder to the vehicle and stepped into the water onto the Suburban’s roof, careful not to slip. A fall would mean a difficult extraction from the mud.
Or, if one went in headfirst, a very unpleasant four- or five-minute death.
He set the bag in the center of the roof and gestured for the others. Dorion, Tolifson and Starr formed a bucket brigade and passed the heavy sandbags to Colter, who placed them two deep on the roof, making a rectangle with an interior about three feet square. This was to keep the water from flooding into the Chevy when thehole was cut. Without the bags to stanch the flow, water would pour in and fill the van in seconds.
To Buddy, Colter said, “I’ll rev and hit the supply.”
“Yessir.” The fireman gripped the hose and walked closer to the pond. He aimed toward the area indicated.
Colter returned to the fire engine and climbed into the cab. He pulled the hand control for the engine throttle and pushed the revs up. The engine growled impatiently. Climbing out, Colter shouted, “Ready?”
“Go!” was Buddy’s response.
Colter yanked the chrome supply lever on the side of the boxy red vehicle and almost instantly the hose went rigid. Given where they were and what was happening, he couldn’t help but think: The power of water.
“Everybody!” he called. “Look for metal or glass!”
The stream blasted through the several inches of water on the surface.
Colter stared at the swath it cut.
Buddy was making good progress, firing the stream into the soup everywhere that Colter had expected the SUV to be.
And where it was not.
Everyone stared at the stream, looking for any hint of the vehicle.
Nothing.
The mayor walked up to Colter and as both men looked at the pond, Tolifson said, “I get the rearview mirror thing, but what gave you the idea they might be here in the first place?”
Colter pointed to a sign, entangled in the metal posts, concrete footers and cable from a guard fence that had once protected traffic from falling into the river.
NoFISHINGfrom Levee
It took the man a moment. Then he exhaled a sour laugh and shook his head. “Goddamn. The sign was on theriverside of the road. If it ended up here, the SUV might’ve come this way too. I saw that very sign hours ago. And didn’t think a thing of it.”
“Losing pressure,” Buddy called.
Colter glanced at the gauge. Twenty seconds of water remained.
And just then Debi Starr cried, “There!”
It was definitely the roof of a vehicle.
As the nozzle sputtered to silence and the line went limp, Buddy called, “What do we do now?”
Colter gestured back to the fire truck. “I need a ladder.”
18.
The Hinowah Fire Department vehicle did not feature a power ladder but rather two extendable manual ones. Buddy and Tolifson grabbed one and pulled it to its full length—about thirty feet. They placed it where Colter indicated: from the levee side of the mudslide to the shore of the retention pond, making a bridge about a foot above the flowing surface.
He called, “Need a chain saw!”
“I’ll get it.” Buddy ran to the truck. To Dorion and Tolifson, Colter shouted, “Sandbags.”
He hefted one himself and walked over the bouncing ladder to the vehicle and stepped into the water onto the Suburban’s roof, careful not to slip. A fall would mean a difficult extraction from the mud.
Or, if one went in headfirst, a very unpleasant four- or five-minute death.
He set the bag in the center of the roof and gestured for the others. Dorion, Tolifson and Starr formed a bucket brigade and passed the heavy sandbags to Colter, who placed them two deep on the roof, making a rectangle with an interior about three feet square. This was to keep the water from flooding into the Chevy when thehole was cut. Without the bags to stanch the flow, water would pour in and fill the van in seconds.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 164